


Before I'm In The Air

by Alex_deMorra (Ergo_Sum)



Series: Fence Sitter [14]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Endings, Law School, M/M, Men's Artistic Gymnastics, Summer Starting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 11:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9121039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ergo_Sum/pseuds/Alex_deMorra
Summary: Chapter 14 - Fence SitterTwenty-one year old Micah is competing in his last gymnastics meet with his school team. With his imminent graduation, it feels like he's experiencing a lot of "lasts" to go with new opportunities. There are also a lot of coincidences with people seemingly appearing out of nowhere to remind him of his past.





	1. Chapter 1

The whole group of them sat next to each other in the bleachers. I could see Mom, Seth, and Bernadette as they cheered. Right next to them, Dominick pumped his fist in the air and Júnior whooped, and hauled Danny, who was sandwiched between him and Seth, to his feet. Behind them was Kenny and Misty Walker, _Mestre_ and _Tia_. Dad was traveling but gave Seth his camcorder along with Strict Instructions for how to store it when it was not in use. 

I was so busy looking to the stands that Coach Dawson had to nudge me when my score was ready. It was decent — not my best, not my worst, not a surprise. “You nailed that dismount but didn’t get the height you needed on the scissors or the flair. And you got a boost from your form on the spindle so that’s good news,” he said and gave me advice on my routine as if this weren’t likely to be our last meet of the year — or my last meet with this team ever.

It was March, which meant Regionals. Our team’s performance had all the looks, smells, and feels of being one that would go home without a set of medals. Back at the bench, I slipped into my team jacket and got hugs from my teammates just in time to watch my teammate Joey Sumner catch his knee and fall, which evoked a collective gasp from this half of the gym.

Scott Groulx, our team captain, sat hunched over. A look of utter defeat crossed his face before he shook it off and gave Joey an encouraging cheer, “Finish it up, man. You got this.” Joey was stoic, mounted the pommel horse, and went right into a Russian Wendeswing to twirl around his hands in a plank position while he traveled up and down the entire length of the horse, then into a handstand for the dismount. He stumbled and took a step forward. “Dammit,” he mouthed and clenched his jaw before he stood straight up and approached Coach to wait for his score.

I looked over to the huge set of mats next to us where another set of gymnasts were doing the floor exercise and happened to catch Tony Wagner execute an unbelievable triple twist layout. It had everything — big height, impeccable form, complete rotation, solid landing. If he wasn't on the other team — and if I hadn’t caught him checking out my boyfriend — I might have been inspired.

Danny caught my eye and gave me a quick shake of his head that meant, _don’t worry about it._ Did I know whether I wasn’t supposed to worry about getting to the championship or whether I wasn’t supposed to worry about Tony getting close to Danny?

Nope. I did not. That said, I knew weren’t getting to the championship, so worrying about it would be futile. Danny, on the other hand, worried me more than I cared to admit.

There were two events remaining. In order to get to the last event, which was my strongest, I had to get through my weakest: vault.

I was up again. The Dragulescu was my first vault. It required me to bound from the springboard to the vault table into a tucked double flip then a half-twist. It was difficult but something I regularly landed. In other words, it was a safe choice. I looked to my team while I chalked up. Scott’s face was grim, more so than anyone else. Across the way, Tony’s was predatory. The faces in the bleachers were hopeful.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them, all I saw was the run, the springboard, the table and a blur of blue behind it where I was going to land. I pressed the ball of my left foot back to start the run.

The padded mat on the run pounded as hard into me as I did on it, which accelerated me more with each impact until the moment I leapt onto the sweet spot of the springboard and found the exact center of the vault table with my hands. I pushed off with everything I had. The ground moved away from me in slow motion and my body went into auto pilot. My knees tucked into my chest. My hands pressed against my knees. I rolled into the first flip. Then the second. I came out of my tuck, unfurling into a twist. I straightened up more. Then my feet were on the mat — glued there — knees bent to absorb the shock of the landing. My heart was about to explode and I was not fucking moving.

I did it.

It was one of those perfect jumps where everything came together, the surge of energy flowing through me to find exactly the right spot to press down, exactly the right time to contract, exactly the right time to expand, time slowed just enough to reveal its perfection.

Now I was pumped, which was a good thing since my next vault was harder: a Li Xiaopeng. The initial lift-off started with a roundoff before my feet hit the springboard. Then it went into a series of twists, which I find harder than flips. So be it. I was determined to make this count.

I stood at the head of the runway and shut the world out just like Coach Bryan taught me how to do so many years ago. He was still the best. And my favorite. I still missed him.

_Noise, noise, noise … shut it down._

My head had to be silent before I started. Once I started running, that was it. If I stopped, my score was zero. If I missed the springboard, my score was a zero. If I didn’t land on my feet first, my score was a zero. My eyes would open only when I could feel it, see it, taste it with my eyes closed.

There it was.

The run.

Not the second run.

Only this one.

It was _always_ only this run.

I took off.

First the hop and then the round-off — one hand on the run followed by the other to lift into the air and land with both feet at the same time on the springboard.

From there, a half-twist into a handspring off the table into one long arch with my arms tucked, to twist as fast and hard as I can to complete two and a half rotations, stick-straight until the end, when I bend at my waist to slow the twist. There it was. My feet were planted on the ground.

_Wow._

Best vault of my life.

Full points.

I was in rare form - and had no idea what I did to get here.

There was only one more event. Then what? I had no idea. I tried not to think about it. I couldn’t think about it. Instead, I cheered on the rest of my team.

Joey was up next and landed both vaults solidly. He had recovered from his fall from the pommel horse. And sometimes it went like that. One person bombed, the rest of the team followed suit. But when one person pulled their finger out and did something great, the energy for everyone shifted. I hoped this was the case; it would be nice to go home with a score we could respect.

Tony Wagner was on the Horizontal Bar in the second part of a Geigner combo.

I would have kept watching but something behind him caught my eye. There was a man standing along the concrete wall of the gym with his eyes trained on me. And if it were just any coach or a scout or a representative from the national team, I wouldn’t have been fazed. Those were the people I expected would be here.

It wasn’t just anyone, though. The man standing there, not a hundred feet away from where I stood, was Coach Bryan, the man who walked out of my life…how long ago was that? Six years ago?

All of a sudden, I was overcome with emotion and had to look away. My glance landed on my mom who, from the stricken look on her face, had noticed him too. Seth was rubbing her arm. Danny dropped his jaw when Bernadette leaned over to tell him something.

Why was he here — and why now?

I wondered if he had seen me in practice or if he knew I had planned a triple combo. Three release moves in a row. It was one of the combos we dreamed up after watching Vitaly Scherbo in 1994 when we used to play of those _how will you know you made it_ games.

_Me: Okay, so the craziest thing I can think of, right — it’s gotta start with a Kovacs and then…into a Gaylord and because I’ll be in a backward swing and it’s kinda like a backward Gaylord, I’d go right into a Pegan._

_Coach: You think you can do all that?_

_Me: I don’t just think it. I know it. I’m going to. Just wait. It’ll be awesome._

_Coach: What else?_

_Me: That double layout full twist dismount. The one Vitaly just did. I’m going to do that one._

_Coach: So, you’ve got some work to do._

_Me: What do you mean me? You’re the one who has to teach me._

_Coach: Oh, I see how you are. I do all the work, you get all the glory._

_Me: Come on. It’s not like that. You’re not going to flake, are you?_

_Coach: No chance. If you’re there, I’m there._

We had a lot of good nights like that one. He brought over recordings from different events and we’d go over the things he’d already done and things I wanted to do. That night I remember that I had somehow ended up curled into coach’s side, my eyes blinking down, my lids more closed than open, practically asleep myself when Coach said, “C’mon Micah — help me get your kid brother into bed.” I remember Seth, who was sprawled, half out of his sleeping bag, sound asleep, and surrounded by books opened to various pages. His ninja turtles pajama top moved up to show his soft, white belly and he had a single trail of drool that crossed over his cheek and fell down to his pillow.

I remembered all of it.

Like how Coach Bryan’s hair was like a big Q-Tip on the top just like Dr. Joel Fleischman on Northern Exposure. How his arms were bigger than my legs. How he got soft and warm when he was sitting down. How his grunt was raspy when he picked Seth up from the ground and carried him to bed.

He said he’d be here if I did it.

And he was.

Just like I remembered.

Our team walked over for the last event.

Less than five minutes later, I was up.

My eyes were on Coach Bryan as I approached the horizontal bar. My arms straight out to the side. Coach Dawson was just behind me, waiting for my ready signal for a boost.

_Focus._

I took a breath but couldn’t take my eyes off of the man against the wall. He closed his eyes and pointed to his temple. Then he opened his eyes and pointed at me. _Do it_ , he mouthed.

I did.

What did I have to lose?

We weren’t going to championships.

I was graduating and, as far as I could tell, ineligible to compete on a college team next year.

But I hadn’t _made_ it.

Not yet.

Not without this routine.

So, this was it.

I opened my eyes, gave the signal, jumped, and gripped the bar.

The routine started with a set of giant swings, gaining as much speed as possible before the first release…

A stretched Kovacs.

I let go of the bar into two full end-over-end rotations over the top of the bar catching it on the way down. There as only the time between catching the bar at the two o’clock position and swinging through to the ten o’clock position where I’d let go of it again for the second release…

A Gaylord.

I went into a half twist and a full end-over-end rotation, to catch the bar again on the way down but this time backward with my back leading the rotation. Once more, I only had from the time I had caught the bar, through three-quarters of a swing, until my third and final release of the set…

A Pegan.

From a backward position, I released into a single rotation tuck with a half-twist and caught the bar once again moving forwards.

_Holy crap - I did it!_

But I wasn’t done.

This routine had built-in with a recovery of sorts. The next few moves were easier until I got to the last set of moves before my dismount. For instance, I went into two giant swings into a single-handed one. Then right into a one and a half pirouette where I changed directions to go into a backward giant. From there, an endo — straddling my legs around my arms into a free circle — followed by one more back giant and a half pirouette to face forward.

The next section was a Stoop to a Back Toss and Dorsal Hang, which meant that when I got to the top of the bar in a handstand position, I bent at my waist and threaded my legs through the gap my arms made with the bar. Meanwhile, the pivot continued with me flipping around myself such that I was positioned to be prone with the bar behind me and into another giant swing but gripping from the back.

I changed to a mixed grip building up speed with my last set of giant swings.

One.

Two.

Three.

And into the dismount: A Triple Front Salto. I let go for the last time to fly. I pulled my knees into me, clasping my forearms over them. I turned once, twice, three times before the ground slammed up hitting my feet first. My face was inches from the blue vinyl. My forearms were still positioned in front of my knees but no longer clasped.

I almost ate it. _Almost_. But I didn’t.

I almost put my hands down. But I didn’t.

I almost lost my balance — and I had to hop — but I held on.

I made it.

I fucking _made_ it.

I must have walked off the mat but I didn’t remember it. Nor did I remember being lifted into the air by Rogers. Or the kiss from Scott. Or the group hug. Or even seeing the score. I just did my best to stand there while getting jostled. In the stands, the whole group — my fans, they called themselves — were on their feet, hugging each other. Mom was crying. So was Danny. My vision went blurry as well.

There was someone else I had to see. None of this would have happened without him. A sense of urgency came over me; he needed to know and I needed to be the one to tell him. But when I scanned the door and the walls nearby, I couldn’t see him.

Coach Bryan was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

I stopped shuffling through the stack of mail that Danny left on the kitchen table when I got to the envelope with the college seal of the last law school I had been waiting to hear from.Unfortunately, it joined the four rejections, two waitlist notices, and three acceptance letters for schools I had no chance of affording that made up my _Stack of No_.

Who decided I should apply to Ivy Leagues?

Right. That was me.

Still, there were options. The best one involved the early acceptance from a private school a few miles away. And it came with a decent financial package. Better than the one from Vermont but not as good as the one from Nebraska. Neither of which came Danny, who I wasn’t about to give up.

In other words, there was no choice.

Was there some reason I was waiting? If there was, I didn’t know what it was. My confirmation letter was already signed and sealed and ready for me to send off. I might as well go hand-deliver it.

I flipped open my phone and saw that it was just past three.

Plenty of time.

With the trolly, it only took twenty-five minutes door-to-door. Easy. Peasy. In less than hour, I had gone to the admissions office, gave them my letter and got a stamped receipt and packet with everything I’d need from financial aid to housing. In less than two, I caught up with the coach of the men’s gymnastics team, walked the halls of the law school, and located the campus coffee cart.

“Let me guess,” said the pale pixie at the counter, as she seized me up. She wore a faded Unknown Pleasures t-shirt with bleach spots along the bottom, red pants, fading orange and red stripes over the crown of her bleach blonde hair, and red glitter at the top of her cheekbones. “You want a chai.”

That caught me off guard.

It would have been a deja-vu but the person I’d heard it from was someone else, the place was not far from here, and I had remembered every detail of that night.

So, it was only a coincidence.

Not a deja-vu.

It still caught me off guard.

“I-I—,” I stuttered, “I don’t know what that is.”

She pointed to a small blackboard to the right of her cash register. “It’s our special today,” she told me and leaned in to say more quietly, “Honestly, we’ve got a new recipe and need to knowif it’s any good. If you fill out this comment card, I’ll give it to you for half-off.”

“What is it?”

“It’s tea and it’s sweet. Do you like sweet?” she asked, tilting her head sideways as if anyone would dare tell her they didn’t like _sweet_.

“Sure.”

She batted her eyes in jest, possibly flirting, “And spicy. Can you handle spicy?”

I cleared my throat and scratched my head, trying to figure out if there was any non-creepy response available to me. _I love spicy, how did you know? I’ll try anything once. I can handle spicy but can spicy handle me?_ I groaned inwardly and avoided the question altogether, “Sure, I’ll have that one.”

“Perfect,” Her eyes flashed, “What’s your name, cutie?”

My eyes shot open. “Uh, what?”

“For the cup. I need to know whose name to shout out when it’s done.”

I looked around. There was no one else here.

“Micah,” I told her.

“Like the rock?” She kept her attention on me while she poured milk into a stainless steel jug and wiped off the steamer spigot with a wet, white towel.

It was a comparison I hadn’t even heard when I took geology and had handled the substance in question. Apparently, it grew it colors from that ranged from pink to silver, beige to black, clear to green to a deep hue of purple. But the thing that made it so memorable was how easily it cleaved in neat horizontal sheets. It was impossible to hold without peeling off neat, pearlescent flakes of the stuff.

“Ah, no,” I explained, “My name has an h on the end,”

Movement from fifty feet away caught my eye. It was a guy with long black hair, an eyebrow piercing, and two full sleeves made up of bandit skulls, roses, hearts, thorns, and flames — and he was closing in quickly.

The girl I spoke with didn’t pay him notice.

“Got it…,” she said and marked the cup before she turned to focus on making my drink, “this will be up in just a minute.”

I sat at a table, opened my computer, and entered the Wi-Fi information that was written in orange chalk on the same sign as the daily special. It was impossible not to listen to the guy growling his hello over the sound of steam frothing, “Hey Jax. You’re off soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m just waiting for Cass then I’m all yours.”

“Excellent, it’ll be nice to spend a few hours with my girlfriend,” he announced too loudly, too pointedly, and too much in my direction.

_Dick._

My attention wasn’t on the barista; it was on the e-mail notification I received several days ago. I didn’t know what to do about it.

_Tyrell Johnson wants to be friends on Facebook._

The blonde woman sauntered over with my drink in tow, “Here you go Micah-with-an-h.” I muttered a thank you and glanced up to see the back of her before returning to my computer.

Tyrell’s profile was half-full of photos of him with an arm over a girl — all smiles and kisses — in a city I didn’t recognize. Chicago, maybe. That’s what his profile said. His mom was a lot grayer than when I knew her. The most recent set of photos shows him with a cat draped over him while he napped.

I clicked around a bit more to see what I could see. Like his relationship status: single.

“Hey, awesome. He finally wrote you!” said a female voice from over my shoulder and when I turned to the side, I ended up with my face almost planted into batik-covered belly that was startlingly distended and not what I expected to see at all. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to spy on you like that,” she said. I looked up to see Rory's girlfriend Cassie

Rory's girlfriend Cassie came out of nowhere.

“No, it’s okay…” I said and stood to give her a hug. “Wow, this is a surprise. I mean, it’s a surprise to see you but also…well…is it rude to ask?” I meant her stomach. Not her stomach. Her — what do they call it? Her bump.

“Has it been so long since we’ve seen each other?” Cassie’s lip curled with doubt. “What was…oh…was it Christmas? Well, hell. Let me take over from my girl and we’ll catch up. Can you stay?”

As if I’d say no.

It took almost no time for the two of them to do a hand-off before Cassie sent the two of them off and joined me again. From the front and the side, she looked like she might have swallowed a basketball. From the back, though, I doubt I could tell anything was different. She was still intensely graceful. It was like she decided some time ago that she’d rather float than walk. Just like she be so ordinary as to sweep. Instead, she would dance and if it happened to be with a broom, so be it. She’d have a clean floor at the end. And I bet she didn’t run for the bus. Ever.

Except for her new change in shape, she looked the same as always — partial dreads that dipped below her waist, in her uniform of spaghetti strap tops and big flowing skirts, with luminous light brown skin decorated with a constellation of dark brown spots that could have been big freckles or really small moles, and a lantern law and a generous set of teeth that should have been too big for the rest of her but it wasn’t. 

I was wanted to tell her she looked beautiful but she spoke first. “So…” she said.

“So,” I said back.

“You know Rory has been trying to get your man Tyrell to reach out for months, right?”

“No, I didn’t know a thing. How’d it happen?”

“This happened,” Cassie rubbed her belly, “He knows he can’t undo whatever happened between the two of you but Rory’s gonna be a dad, now. He needs to have it behind him. Know what I mean?”

She stopped short of telling me it was time for me to forgive him. I already did, though. As much as I could, anyway. I was made up of the fool-me-once ilk. Just because I forgave him didn’t mean we were friends or anything. “Yeah.”

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

“I…”

“I mean after you write your friend back. Because you _will_ do that, am I right?”

“Not su—“

She interrupted me, “Because that’s the simple part. After all that work. I know you wouldn’t let all that effort go to waste.”

I cleared my throat, rolled my eyes, and shifted forward in my seat. And I smiled, which basically meant I just gave in and she knew it. “Tell me what’s happening with you. I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Oh, yeah. This is one of mine,” she explained, “There are four of us that went in together a few years ago to buy the first one. Now, we’ve got…oh…six kiosks?”

“You’re the boss?”

“You know it. Why did you think I’d be anything else?”

I laughed, “Uh…because you’re my age.”

“Well, not that much older than you. Oh, that reminds me…”

“What’s up?”

“You don’t know anyone that needs a job this summer, do you?”

“I don’t think so, why?”

“We have this new gig that involves traveling to concerts and fairs. It was my idea…so I was gonna have to cover it…” she grimaces, “and now I’m gonna be busy having a baby.”

“Well, of all the reasons to need some extra help. You seem happy.”

“I am, I am.”

“Rory, too?”

“He’s over the moon,” she said, beaming.

“If I hear of anyone, I’ll let you know. But let me know if you get stuck. I can always cover for a short while.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Sure. I’ve covered at Danny’s place loads of times,” I said, having stopped myself from also saying that I needed to keep my training schedule. I still didn’t half know what to do with myself now that the season was over.

The campus had picked up while she and I caught up. There wasn’t a soul walking by when I first sat down. Now there were plenty, including a few looking at the menu. “I’d better get to it,” said Cassie as she stood up. “I’m officially making you my back-up for summer. So, if you don’t want in, help me find someone else, alright?” I wasn’t worried. There would be plenty in our group who would jump at a chance like this.

The trolley took a bit longer on the way home. As it turned out, I was passing by Danny’s shop close to the time he finished work.

I went in.

His eyes flashed briefly to me in acknowledgment. When he finished up with his customer, he grabbed his stuff and left the shop with me. Something wasn’t right. I asked, “Is something wrong?” He merely shook his head.

We walked up the hill without saying another word.

Once we got inside, I asked what he was hungry for, not caring what he said so long as he said something.

He sulked, “I’m going to skip dinner if that’s okay with you.”

“Danny?”

“Yeah?” His shoulders were tense, raised halfway to his ears and he had this look about him like he thought I was about to accuse him of something. Which I wasn’t. What I _was_ going to do was catch him up on my decision. “I took my letter to the school today. I’ve officially accepted their acceptance.”

He seemed confused. “What does that mean?”

I assured him, “It means we’re not leaving. That’s good, right? That’s what you wanted?” We’d gone in circles over it. Where would he be willing to live? Where would he not? What would happen to his house? Why couldn’t we stay here?

Then there were the other conversations. _Why do you have to study so much?_ I didn’t know it had affected him so much. Not when I did so much at school. Or kept to my Saturday nights at my table at the shop. But then he brought up other stuff. _Why can’t we go out more?_ Or worse…

“I feel like you’re leaving me behind.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you’re going to more school talking about being a lawyer and that’s just…I dunno. I’m never going to be anything like a doctor or a lawyer or…. I’m proud of you and everything it’s just…”

“It’s just what? I love who you are, Danny. And what you do.”

“I don’t _do_ anything.”

“You make people’s day better.”

“I serve coffee,” he said and rolled his eyes. That’s what he served up but it wasn’t what he did.

“Those people who come in…you have to know that sometimes you’re the only nice thing that happens in their day.”

“Just cause that’s what it was to you…”

“Danny.” I gave up. It was painful to tell someone how much they meant when they clearly didn’t want to hear it. 

He put on a smile and gave my arm a quick stroke. “Nothing, baby. I’m being stupid,” Danny said. I didn’t believe him. Nor did I know how to change his mind.

That was last week.

Now we stood in the space between the living room and the kitchen. The pile of mail was still there, minus the piece I opened earlier. I was waiting for him to respond to my question: _…we’re not leaving. That’s good, right? That’s what you wanted._

Danny hedged, “You know you’re my best friend, right? I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re going to stay. And…you know you always have a space here. Like this is your home.”

 _No, no, no, no, no._ Now that the words were coming out of his mouth, I could see they’d been forming there for months. And there wasn’t anything I could do to stop them. But I wanted to.

“But the thing is…um…this is hard,” admitted Danny. His eyes flickered across the room, heavy with unspilt tears. Until one dropped. He shoved it off his face and smeared it out of existence. His leg started vibrating. And his breath shook. Then he said it, “I don’t want to be boyfriends anymore.”

_Boom!_

There it was.

The truth hurt.

He didn't want to be boyfriends anymore.

It felt trivial — the word and the way he said it. As if we’d been seeing each other for a few months, maybe sharing cotton candy after a blowjob against a wall. What we had felt like a hell of a lot more than that. It wasn’t just the living together, waking up each morning, making meals for each other, taking care of each other when we got sick. He knew everything about me. He was my emergency contact on every single piece of paperwork that required that information. He saved my life.

And I…I guess I haven’t really done shit for him other than paying some paltry amount of rent each month that’s a fraction of what I’d pay elsewhere.

_Fuck._

“You’re breaking up with me?” I croaked. The question was redundant. Of course, he was breaking up with me. I didn’t want him to repeat it because I wanted it to hurt more. I wanted him to take it back. He might have been good with keeping his shit together but I was a mess. “Dan—?”

He interrupted, “Yeah, Micah. I am. I can’t do this.”

_Why?_

Danny went on, “I can’t wait for the shoe to drop. We live together, we’ve been through shit together, and trying to keep this other thing going…like family on top of friends on top of fucking each other…it’s asking too much. It’s all going to implode and you’re going to be….I dunno…but I won’t be able to handle it.”

This wasn’t happening. And it was.

“That makes _no_ sense. You’re breaking up with me because you’re afraid of something is going to happen in the future. But you still love me? We can make this work. I _want_ to make this work. Please, I’ll do whatever…”

“Micah, we have to end this.”

_No, Danny. We don’t._

I could feel the certainty of it but I didn’t know where it came from. I didn’t feel the same way at all. My mind searched for all the _but, maybe_ ’s I could dream up. Then he said The Thing that I knew we couldn’t come back from, “I can’t be with you that way anymore.”

“No…you don’t mean it.” This — right here, right now — this was me inside a world crashing in. I needed him. “Is there someone else? Is that it — you want to be with someone different? I get that four years is a long time to be together but…are you bored? Are you sick of me? What is it?”

“No, there’s no one.” And there wasn’t. Remorse briefly crossed his face. Resolve quickly took its place. “Believe me, it will be better this way. Trust me.”

“How?” I yelled, “How exactly will it be better? I want to _be_ with you, Danny. Please don’t change it. Don’t end this. You don’t even want to. You’re just scared.”

He was infuriatingly calm and the longer this conversation happened, the more settled he became. “No, I’m not just scared. I’m finally being smart.”

“So…what? You want me to go — you want me to leave — you want me to move out? Exactly how far are you taking this?”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“So…you want me here?”

“Yeah. I want you to stay. We’re family, Micah. We’re family first and I can’t lose that. I don’t care who you fuck or who I fuck but the other stuff can’t be replaced. Don’t you get it?”

“Not really. I don’t know why you think we have to choose. This makes _zero_ sense to me, Danny. None.”

My face was wet with tears and it hurt from holding my muscles at the sides of my mouth and under my eyes and at my jaw clenched. I was shaking and freaking out and desperately needed to blow off steam from what had been — even before this moment — an unbelievable day.

And _this_? I didn’t know where to start understanding this.

“Micah, I’m sorry. I know you’re upset but you’ll see. I’m right about this. It’ll suck for a while but I’m right.”

I really didn’t give a shit about who was right. I just wanted him. Danny disappeared into his room and, for the first time in almost four years, I wasn’t welcome to follow him.


	3. Chapter 3

Natalie, Rory, Chris, and Ben took turns sipping from my oeuvre of caffeinated beverages while Cassie — pregnant enough to tip over while standing — looked on from her stool at the far end of the kiosk. They all looked reasonably satisfied. Or wired. Maybe both. Either way, the sounds they made were of the positive variety.

Why was I worried? This had been decided upon weeks ago. Then again, what if they changed their minds? That would be bad. I had no Plan B. On top of that, I fucked up my last quarter at school. I’ve been half-hearted in practice _and_ slowly coming to terms with the likely end of my gymnastics career. I wasn’t going to stay at home — at Danny’s — whatever. At least this way, I’d have somewhere to put myself until I started school in the fall.

“So?” I asked as I was thinking more along the lines of _Come on, guys — I’m dying here._ “What do you think?”

Chris shrugged, “Yeah. It’s good.”

Natalie agreed.

Rory gave me a thumbs up, though he wasn’t exactly objective. He wanted this off the list of things Cassie had to worry about. Or, more accurately, things he worried about on her behalf.

Ben shrugged his shoulders and said, “This is great. You’ve the quirks down. It’s always a bit different in these carts than when you’re in a brick and mortar. Looks like you’re ready to go.”

Four handshakes later and I was committed. By the time fall quarter started, I will have traipsed up and down the west coast — providing coffee fixes throughout the day, sleeping under the stars at night. And I would be alone, thank god. That is, aside from a few larger events where I’d meet up with one of the others.

Ben tossed me a dog-eared, cover-torn copy of a Shakespearean guide with words, phrases, and pronunciation on the same. “Last piece of advice: pick that up quick. Otherwise, your summer will be a long one.”

He and I had a different understanding what made up a long summer. His regarded random patrons who, as of that moment, meant nothing to me. Mine had to do with having to face insomnia thanks to hearing more from my ex via his string of nightly visitors than from talking to him face to face. The more there was of the first, the less there was of the second.

Danny had insisted it was best to rip the band-aid off. His point: _Why should we have to protect each other from our lives? The sooner we move on, the easier it will be._ He thought we were fine. I disagreed.

He was so determined on making a point out of how _great_ it would be that we weren’t together, of how _close_ we would be now that we didn’t have all of that intimacy in the way our friendship, he disregarded what I thought or felt or expressed or said. He’d never treated me like that before. Never. I didn’t even think he was capable of it. He was always my friend, my savior, and my lover all at once.

And when I needed him, there was never a question that he’d be there for me. Like completely there for me. I never felt like I was less than a real person. Now, everything flipped. Before I couldn’t wait to see him, now I couldn’t wait to get away.

I had to.

Hence the summer gig that started tomorrow after I handed in my last exam.

When I went home, I got to work on the last two things that needed to put in place before leaving. The first was making a copy of my summer schedule with the dates and cities of each festival I would be at. Whatever else changed between us, Danny remained my point of contact for anything official. The second item was a late application for on-campus housing that I would post tomorrow.

Then there was pulling my stuff together. Aside from my bags I had with me this summer, everything else I owned fit into a duffel bag and eight boxes, four of which were books. I thought about whether I might be able to store these at _Mestre’s_ or maybe at Mom’s. Dad had the room but…no; I’d never ask him. I was pondering how important getting my stuff out so that I could get the moving out part done with and get on with my life when Danny came home.

“Hey,” he mumbled and glanced at me on his way from the front door to his bedroom room. I heard his bedroom door close, followed by shuffling, and then another set of doors that opened and closed, which indicated that he would shower before going out. If he was going out after work, it meant he’d be coming back, possibly not alone. Fuck it. I was so over that shit.

And I needed to sleep. Tomorrow’s final was worth half my grade.

I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts searching for someone what wouldn’t mind me dropping in so late. I found him.

_Me: Hey._

_Scott: Hey._

_Me: Can I ask a favor?_

_Scott: Sure._

_Me: Can I borrow your couch tonight?_

_Scott: A’s girlfriend is over._

_Me: Don’t care if you don’t._

_Scott: Nope. Don’t care. Come on over. If couch is taken, I have a lovely piece of carpet going cheap._

_Me: My hero._

_Scott: You are so making me breakfast._

_Me: Done. With whipped cream and peanut butter. But my test is at ten so it might be early._

_Scott: Cool. I’ve got one, too._

_Me: Be there in an hour._

_Scott: See you soon._

I stacked enough cash to cover a summer’s worth of rent on top of the now completed summer work schedule and went to the back room that used to be mine to finish sorting what would come with me and what wouldn’t. There was already a ton of stuff in the car — a tent, camping supplies, and uniforms for fairs, faires, and a rodeo.

I was ready to go.

But I haven’t told him yet.

I could just leave a note. Just grab my bags. Take off. That was much simpler than figuring out where to stash the rest of my stuff. Or facing him. I stacked the boxes in the closet and tucked the duffel bag with half of my clothes on top of them and in the corner. Copies of my ID and important paperwork were left in the top dresser drawer in case of emergency. The bed was straightened and had new sheets on it; the room was ready for its next guest.

 _I was really doing this_.

The photo on the dresser grabbed my eye. It was the one where I held Danny piggyback while standing on a hidden suspension bridge that stretched over a canyon a few blocks from here. The sun streamed between the Eucalyptus trees. I remember it was early in the morning. At the time, I had worried that the person who had offered to take our photo would take off with my phone. Instead, they told us we made a cute couple. That afternoon, we went to the drug store to get a print-out on the automatic photo machine.

“This is mine,” I said and held it close to my chest, twisting away from him, earning a playful sneer. Then we got a second one made.

That was then.

It went face down in the first drawer next to the documents I left for him.

_Now, what?_

The shower had shut off some time ago, though I hadn’t noticed any more doors opening or closing. I slung my school pack over my shoulder, picked up a duffel with each hand, walked out of the room, leaving the door open, and returned to the kitchen table to write a good-bye note.

_Danny,_

_I got the job I started to tell you about. I know I didn’t tell you this part but it means that I’m going to be gone for the summer. Considering everything, that’s probably —_

“Are you going somewhere?” accused Danny who just came out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. He wore bright yellow skinny jeans, a ribbed black tank top, my black canvas high-tops that he had adopted around Christmas time and a black leather belt with metal studs. He eyed my bags, the money on the table, the schedule, and when he looked at me again, he was pissed.

“Yeah,” I said slowly and transitioned my thoughts from the words I would write down to ones I would say to his face. “I’m at a friend’s house tonight and then I’m starting my summer job tomorrow.”

“So, you’re gone for the weekend and you’ll be back on Monday?”

“No. I’ve arranged to be gone for the summer.”

He deadpanned, “What?”

“There’s rent for the next few months.

“Wait, what? You’re like…moving out?” he asked in a perfect mirror to the question I asked him not so long ago, _You’re breaking up with me?_ Had I been a better person, I might not have felt so vindicated.

I continued with a feigned nonchalance, “Yeah. My stuff is here but it’s packed away. If you need it gone, just let me know. I’ll have someone pick it up.”

He raised his voice, “Without even talking to me about it?”

I looked at him, finally and directly, and said, “As it happens, I _did_ try to talk to you about it. But you blew me off. So, yeah. I’m leaving. And, no, we’re not talking about it.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No.”

“So — what then? Are you just going to go run and hide to get away from stuff you don’t like? I hate to be the one to tell you this but that's what you do.”

“ _That’s_ the card you want to play right now? I’m pretty sure you’re the one shoving me out with this passive-aggressive shit bringing people home and telling me how little I’m supposed to care about it,” I started calmly — or pseudo-calmly — but I could hear my voice become higher and faster the more agitated I got. Who was he to tell me that _I_ was avoiding him? That was bullshit. So I told him, “And when was the last time you wanted to hang out, huh? Talk like _friends_ do? This plan you had was entirely fucked up and I didn’t get a say in it. So, I’m sorry, but you don’t get a say in the fact that I’m leaving.”

We stood there for a while, glaring at and blaming each other. 

The shoe dropped. The one he was so worried about dropping that he broke up with me. If that’s what really happened. I still didn’t understand his decision. I guess now he’ll have something he didn’t understand either. “So…you’re…leaving me?” 

“Yeah. I’m leaving.”

Danny pressed his palm against his forehead and turned back toward his room. When he spoke with a voice thick with emotion,“No. That’s not supposed to be how this — We were supposed to just end the one thing so we could make everything more simple. So like, when you found the — when you — because it was going to happen, right? You weren’t going to leave me behind then. And it was just easier. Like it was supposed to make everything easier.”

Sometimes, I didn’t know what planet he even came from.

“Danny,” I yelled, frustrated that he was so blind to how I felt — how _anyone_ would have felt in my situation. “You broke us. You broke _me_. You are the one who came out every morning pretending like it didn’t matter if I could hear you and if I cared about whoever you were with. Like it wasn’t supposed to matter to me. And I told you it was fucked up but did you listen? Nah. You were just all like _get over it, Micah…it’s just sex, Micah…it doesn’t matter, Micah_. Well, it fucking mattered!”

At some point in the last minute or two, my cool was well obliterated. My nostrils flared out and the corners of my mouth bent dramatically toward my jaw.

I was blind to him approaching and was surprised when he reached out to embrace me. But not as surprised as each of were when I flinched.

Seriously.

 _I flinched_.

From _Danny._

The two of us looked at each other in shock, like _how the hell did we get here_? I couldn’t take any more of this. Not right now. I blurted out, “Danny, I gotta go. Sorry.”

“We have to talk about this!”

“No, we don’t. We’ll talk over the summer.”

“You can’t leave!”

I picked up my bags and looked at him hard, “I’m already gone.”

Then I left.

The glass in the door reverberated when I slammed it. I descended the creaky wooden stairs, amidst the blooming swarm of star jasmine and held my bags close, as if they doing so would help me hold myself together.

I made it to my car.

Just.

As soon as I got inside, I turned into a heaving, gulping, dramatic, ugly, and helpless crying mess. By the time my eyes cleared, I noticed people in and around the coffee shop looking at me with the full range of everything from pity to disdain.

Great. It was one thing to feel shitty and quite another to havean audience. I pulled away from the curve and soon arrived at Scott’s with vague memories of the road and red tail lights.

My former team captain greeted me at the door with an open bottle of beer. “You look like shit.”

“Ha. I feel like shit,” I agreed and toppled into a one-armed hug before proceeding into his living room and to plop on his super stuffed brown couch of unknown age to watch the latest procedural drama. The place was empty of roommates and girlfriends. And about girlfriends, I asked about his, “How’s Laura?”

“Single.”

That was a surprise. I thought they were well on their way to getting engaged. “No kidding — what happened?”

“She found my porn collection,” he admitted and with a side glance, he looked me up and down, and returned his attention to the latest procedural drama, “All of it.” He stressed the word _all_ and I suppose there was something more for me to pick up beyond his girlfriend’s general disapproval.

“Dare I guess?”

“No need. You’d probably like it.”

Huh. Subtle. I took a long pull from my beer and waited to see if he’d say something else about it. When he didn’t, I asked, “Is this you coming out to me?”

He chuckled and might have blushed before wiping his face with his hand. “Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

“Cool. You want to talk about it?”

Scott shook his head. “No, I really don’t.” He was intent on watching TV, or wanted to appear so anyway, though the way he sat, bent at the waist such that his elbows rested on his knee, made me reminded me of how I would sometimes sit while trying to hide my boner.

I opted not to press further, “Okay.”

“So…uh…have you thought about what you’re going to do next?”

“With school or gymnastics or what?”

“All of it. Any of it.”

“I’m at law school in the fall. Gymnastics? No clue. I’ve been messed up about it to tell you the truth. I don’t think I have it in me to compete like I have been but I hate to think it’s over, you know?”

“Yeah…I get it.” He was silent for a bit longer, sneaking sideways looks at me that I ignored. “I feel like someone died. You know?”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that but yeah.”

“I’m a bit lost with it all. And then part of me thinks I still have a few more years. What would happen if I put everything aside and just went for it? Do you have that?”

He could have read my mind, “Definitely. Then I keep coming back to the thought that I just finished school and if I don’t do something with it, the best chance for doing something I like would be gone — even if I did something great as a gymnast. It would be one more year or maybe two at the most and I’d be back wondering what to do about it.”

Scott was quiet for a bit longer. “So, I’ve been thinking about my senior project. Maybe I can do something with it.”

“Tell me.”

“There’s this big gym center not too far from here. It’s been closed up for a few years because of some big court case. But it is about to be released for auctioning off. You know the place?”

“I think I knew which one you mean, yeah.”

“For my final project, I had to put together a business plan. There are investors lined up and everything. Anyhow, I’ve been thinking about whether to take this plan and, you know, follow-through with it. Make it happen.”

I swallowed and made an effort to breathe smoothly. That place was supposed to be history. It never occurred to me that someone might want to revive it. “Are you going to do it?”

“Not sure.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Honestly? There’s some creepy stuff there. I guess the owner had video feeds all over the place. Lockers, bathrooms, that sort of thing. And, that’s not the worst.”

“No?” I asked, ignoring the cold sweat that broke out along the back of my neck.

“There were these rooms. I mean, they’re empty now, but there was one room behind the storage cabinet and another one hidden behind the owner’s office. I think some stuff went down there, you know?”

“Shit. That’s…”

He finished my sentence for me, “…unbelievable, right? I mean you hear about this stuff but seeing it just…ugh…no, way. I heard he got serious time.”

“Yeah, it was a big deal.”

“Wait — you grew up here, didn’t you?”

“I did,” I said quietly. Now I was the one intent on watching TV, not that I knew what was happening, and peeled small bits of the label from the beer bottle I was holding.

“You weren’t involved in — I mean — you know what I mean, right?” he asked, concerned.

“Nope,” I lied. The things that happened ago happened in another era. I still didn’t know most of what happened and I didn’t want to. I didn’t need to. What I knew, what I remembered, what I directly experienced — all that was plenty. There were things I learned about later. Like the video feeds. And the network of people that had access to it. For years, I thought that anyone who greeted me in too friendly a manner was one of them. Since not many were caught, I had no way of knowing. “A lot of people know something went down there. Isn’t it going to be tough getting customers with the history of the place?”

“I was thinking of making some changes and making the space really open. Like, maybe, replacing the old office space with one of those new play spaces geared for smaller kids.”

“Nice. Don’t you need offices, though?”

“I can get a metal loft. It’s easy enough to control access but if the staff can be seen and the parents are welcome to stay during practice, that’ll go a long way to easing people’s fears.”

“Sounds like you have it all figured out,” I congratulated him. “It…actually…sounds amazing,” I said. And I meant it. The changes he talked about needed to happen. Transparency to gain trust. Plus, it would get the next generation of kids excited. The rich ones, anyway.

“Not by a long shot. I can picture it, though. I can see it bustling with kids. Maybe open some classes up to adults? You’ve been working at that community center for a long time, right? I was wondering if I can hit you up with some ideas?”

“Sure.”

“Like we can stay in touch about this?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Maybe about that other thing, too?”

“Of course,” I smiled and gave his shoulder a quick grab, “Anytime.”

Scott went back to his show and I pretended to join him with my mind racing to unwrap all the shit that Danny and I had said to each other. I knew the reason we weren’t together anymore wasn’t so one-sided. He’d carried me for a long time. And when Danny said that I had a habit of running and hiding, he should have said I had a habit of hiding behind him. That somewhere along the way, I missed the clue about no longer needing to live in his shadow in order to survive. It was no longer that time and I no longer had the choice to pretend that it was.

Scott’s voice caught me off-guard. “Micah - do you want to grab a shower before heading to bed or is tomorrow better?” The credits were rolling, then the screen went black. I blinked a few times to shake off my stupor.

“I don’t mind. What do you want?”

“What _I_ want is to take a shower tonight,” he smirked with his head bent down. He wasn’t looking at me directly. Until he did. Then his nose wrinkled up and his eyes squinted and it seemed like he might want to crawl between the cushions of the sofa.

I wouldn't have thought to call him charming. Scott was boisterous, energetic, sporty, and brave. At the moment, he was sheepish. It was cute. I gave him a bit of time just in case he wanted to take back what he’d just put out there. But there was no regret forthcoming.

“You want company?” I asked.

He took a deep breath in and held it; his lip twitched as he watched me. On the exhale he said, “Yeah.”

There were so many questions I should have asked. _Have you done this before? What do you like? How far do you want to take this? Are you good with this just being tonight?_ But I didn’t say any of those things. What I said was, “Alright, let’s go.”


End file.
